ISSN 2516-8568 ‘The cruel queen her thrall let slip’: Boundaries of Female Agency in the Ynglinga Saga Author(s): Markus Eldegard Mindrebø Source: Midlands Historical Review, Proceedings of the Medieval Midlands 2018 Postgraduate Conference Published: 28/06/2018 URL: http://www.midlandshistoricalreview.com/the-cruel-queen-her-thrall-let- slip-boundaries-of-female-agency-in-the-ynglinga-saga/ Midlands Historical Review ISSN 2516-8568 ‘The cruel queen her thrall let slip’: Boundaries of Female Agency in the Ynglinga Saga MARKUS ELDEGARD MINDREBØ Introduction The Old Norse sagas, written primarily in Iceland and Norway in the thirteenth century, represent a unique branch of Medieval European literature. They are distinct in that they are mostly written in the vernacular rather than Latin, but also for a variety of other reasons, including the fact that they contain a multitude of strong and independent female characters. This paper will examine the women of the Ynglinga saga. Based on the semi-legendary Scandinavian poem Ynglingatal, it makes up the first part of Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla, the most renowned of the Old Norse kings’ sagas. It primarily consists of a genealogical summary of the family known as the Ynglingar. As a narrative centred around kingship and war, and as part of a masculine, sometimes misogynistic genre, it unfortunately has few mentions of women. The women who are present, however, show a scope for agency that is far greater than might be expected at the time of writing, as many do not rely on men, but rather determine their own fates. What these women have in common are masculine behaviour and ideals, and this article will build on existing work on gender ambiguity in early Medieval Scandinavia to show how biological sex was overridden by fulfilling expectations of social behaviour. This stands in contrast to the late Medieval period and its considerably stricter and more misogynistic gender hierarchy, caused by the increasing influence of the Christian clergy. Although there are clear methodological issues with attempting to use semi-fictional heroines to explain a society’s broader features, this approach does provide the opportunity to use the agency of individual characters to forge a more generalised understanding of what the role of many high-ranking women might have been, as well as to explore the attitudes of the writer himself. The two central arguments of this article are that, in contrast to the later sources, the Ynglinga saga suggests it was possible in early medieval Scandinavian society and ideology for women to possess considerable agency and power, and that the only boundary to actually wielding it was engagement in masculine behaviour. Mythological Beginnings 1 Midlands Historical Review ISSN 2516-8568 The beginning of the saga is essentially a rewriting of Norse mythology in Christian terms where the old gods are seen as powerful human progenitors of the royal dynasty rather than divine beings. In these mythological beginnings, women, for instance Frigga, Freyja and Skaði, are described in rather disparaging terms, without any form of agency whatsoever. However, one could argue that Snorri’s treatment of women at the beginning of the saga is not primarily about misogyny, but due to his viewpoint as a Christian historian looking back on the pagan past. Such an argument is strengthened by the writer’s similarly disparaging treatment of the men. This introduction to the old gods is an attempt to denounce paganism and prove that the aesir, the prime Norse deities, were not gods, but mortal men and women, just as significant or insignificant as those who came after them. Into the Line of Ynglingar After the mythological roots of the saga, the tale proceeds into the line of the Ynglingar themselves, supposedly descended from Freyr, Freyja’s brother. As the first few generations are primarily concerned with war and government, there are very few mentions of women. However, when we arrive at the reign of Freyr’s supposed great-grandson Vanlandi, women are suddenly placed at the forefront. Vanlandi has apparently left just after making his young wife pregnant and has not returned after ten years. Driva, his wife, then opts to request the sorceress Huld to kill Vanlandi. Huld complies and soon the king lies dead. This story is virtually repeated in the next generation, when the sons of king Vísburr, himself the son of Vanlandi and Driva, asks Huld to use her magic to help them get rid of their father. Huld again agrees, but this time on a grave condition: that from here on, there will always be kinslaying among the Ynglingar.1 The two brothers agree to this, and they burn their father inside a house, aided by Huld’s sorcery. It is important to note that no woman is being blamed for the beginning of the Ynglingar’s kinslaying; it is presented as the logical result of the two brothers’ actions. Further, one should note that Huld does not actually do anything. She agrees to kill two kings, but in the first instance there is no description of the king’s death, and in the second, the ones who made the request also perform the murder themselves. There is, however, great respect for, and belief in, Huld’s power. She is sought out by high-ranking people to do, or at least bless, their dirty work. In addition to that, the reader of this saga will notice that she faces no condemnation for her actions; the blame for the murder and the kinslaying to come is all on the two brothers. 1 Heimskringla, F. Jónsson (ed.) (København, 1911), pp. 11-12. 2 Midlands Historical Review ISSN 2516-8568 Although there is very little fantastical about the presentation of Huld, most women of the saga are presented more realistically. Unlike Huld, they are also all kings’ wives, for the simple reason that queens would be the most important and visible female members of remembered history. The first of these is Skjálf, wife of king Agni. She became the king’s wife when Agni killed her father and seized her by force; not the beginning of a loving marriage. Just a year later, Skjálf went on to orchestrate her husband’s hanging.2 There are many cases throughout the saga literature of women asking male confidantes to perform similar actions, but Skjálf is remarkable in that she personally places the noose around Agni’s neck. She is thus the main agent not just in the planning of her husband’s murder, but also in the execution of it. Furthermore, she is not placed in a negative light at all, as her actions are apparently justified by the way in which Agni captured her. A less violent case is provided by the mother and daughter Álof and Yrsa. Álof is known as in ríka, ‘the mighty’, implying she held a degree of power.3 Yrsa is known from a multitude of semi-legendary sources including Beowulf, and her story focuses on her being stolen away from her husband Aðils by a king named Helgi, with whom she proceeds to have a son. Three years later her mother Álof arrives to tell her that Helgi is actually her father. Yrsa then leaves her son and returns home to Aðils, apparently living happily ever after. These women show little sign of agency per se, but it is important to note that again, Snorri does not judge them. Álof and Yrsa are consistently shown as faithful and loyal women without any malicious intent. In the Saga of Hrolf Kraki, on the other hand, Álof plants Yrsa with Helgi and deliberately avoids revealing their relation, which could be seen as a typically misogynistic characterisation of female cunning and deception.4 It is also worth noting that while the Saga of Hrolf Kraki was written later than the Ynglinga saga, Snorri also bases his account on the earlier Skjöldunga saga, implying that misogynistic constructions were primarily imposed later in the Old Norse tradition. However, there are certainly malicious women in Snorri’s text as well. A particularly interesting case is provided by Ása, daughter of Ingjaldr Illrádi (“bad ruler”), who was responsible for the deaths of both her husband’s brother and her husband. She was apparently given the epiphet Illrádi, just like her father, and while she is the only woman of this saga who is advertised as thoroughly unpleasant without any form of justification, she is here just following in the footsteps of Ingjaldr.5 Ása is presented as the female equivalent 2 Heimskringla, Jónsson, p. 15. 3 Heimskringla, Jónsson, p. 22. 4 Hrolfs saga kraka, F. Jónsson (ed.) (København, 1904), pp. 28-29. 5 Heimskringla, Jónsson, p. 30. 3 Midlands Historical Review ISSN 2516-8568 and partner in crime of her father, and there is thus little separation in the personality and attributes of these two characters, regardless of their different sexes. Finally, the last important woman of the Ynglinga saga, and arguably the most historical, is Ása Haraldsdottir, the mother of Halfdan the Black and thus grandmother of Haraldr Fairhair, the first king of Norway. Ása is the strongest example of female agency extending beyond normal boundaries in this saga. Just like Skjálf in the beginning, she had her husband Guðrøðr the Hunter murdered as vengeance for taking her against her will.6 Then she travelled back to her father’s kingdom in Agder with her young son, and became queen regnant.7 There are also theories which identify her as the woman buried with a ship in the exceptionally rich Oseberg burial in Vestfold in southern Norway.8 There is also an interesting point to be made about condemnation in regards to Ása.